


Waxing Poetic.

by needles



Series: Bokuaka Detective drabbles [76]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 06:55:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30068394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/needles/pseuds/needles
Summary: Akaashi is getting a little bored waiting in Bokuto's office for his return.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Series: Bokuaka Detective drabbles [76]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2116251
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Waxing Poetic.

“Ok Akaashi I won’t be long I’ll take these case files up to Yamiji and I’ll see you back in my office in a few minutes.” Bokuto held the elevator doors open while Keiji got out. Then they slid shut with a metallic thump and the lights flicked over to the next floor level. Keiji turned and strolled down to Bokuto’s office.

Keiji sat in his usual chair waiting patiently, five minutes; ten. After almost fifteen minutes he really wished he’d brought some work of his own. He flicked Bokuto’s Newton’s Cradle a couple of times but it wasn’t very entertaining. He rose to his feet and walked around Bokuto’s desk studying the photographs of his partner with a number of high ranking officers clearly presenting him with one of his numerous medals and awards. Most of which he knew Bokuto kept shut in a drawer for use only when compulsory. 

He looked at Bokuto’s chair. Soft, worn leather, it looked comfortable, inviting. Should he? Surely it couldn’t harm. He’d caught Bokuto using his chair often enough. He slid into the deep seat. It was comfortable; he laid his head back and breathed in, the leather smelt like Bokuto, intoxicating. Keiji wanted to steal it and put it in his office at home. He was sure he’d find it inspiring. He swivelled from side to side. Then something caught his eye. 

Peeping out from beneath the blotter was a corner of paper. He slid it out a little further with one finger then he heard footsteps. He snatched his finger back. The footsteps closed on Bokuto’s office, and then faded again as their owner headed elsewhere. Keiji let out a breath. Quickly he slid the paper free. It looked like a small sheet of handwritten notepaper. He unfolded it. Sure enough the words within were written in Bokuto’s distinctive scrawl. There were crossings out and alterations to the text. It had obviously taken him some time to get it right.

The paper bore nine lines of text under a title and Keiji looked in disbelief as he realised it was a poem; and not just one Bokuto had copied. Judging from all the changes he’d written it himself, and over quite a period of time. Keiji scanned the lines and his mouth dropped open in an ‘O’.

Inamorata

A face to make the angels weep with envy,  
Green eyes like ever changing sea, missing nothing,  
A heart to console a universe of souls,  
A passion for the truth and strength to fight,  
My love is all of these and more beside.  
He owns my heart but knows me not.  
I dare not speak for fear that he will fly,  
And I would rather stay his unloved shadow  
Than lose my everything; my Keiji.

As he sat staring the words blurred in front of his eyes and he realised that tears were falling slowly down his face. How had he not seen this? He spent almost every day with Bokuto both in and out of work, how could he have missed the signs? He couldn’t read people but Bokuto was not just people. Keiji thought of all people he could tell what Bokuto was thinking. He had such an expressive face, and those eyes. Keiji shook his head and a cascade of salty droplets fell over the paper. He grabbed a Kleenex from the box and dabbed the paper dry.

“I’m sorry Akaashi. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

He looked up, Bokuto was leaning in the doorway; shoulders slumped, a miserable expression on his face.

“I’m not embarrassed Bokuto san I’m angry.” As his partner’s shoulders slumped further he added. “Angry with myself, not you.”

Bokuto looked up, his expression one of total confusion. “Angry with yourself? Why?”

“For not seeing how you felt. And don’t tell me that my people skills are inadequate, I should still have been able to tell. I spend more time with you than anyone else in my life. You have always been the one person I thought I could read. I usually know what you’re thinking but this,” he shook his head, “this I completely missed. This time I didn’t get an A, I didn’t even get an F.”

“You weren’t meant to see anything Akaashi. I learned a long time ago how to hide my feelings.” Bokuto admitted gently.

Keiji stroked a finger over the poem. “But this, this is the truth? This is really what you see, what you feel?”

“Yeah Akaashi.”

Keiji turned the paper over and grabbed a pen, then he began to write.

Bokuto brows furrowed in confusion. “Akaashi?”

“You know Bokuto san ‘Inamorata’ refers to a female lover but there is a male version of that word.”

Keiji turned the paper and slid it towards Bokuto. He stared in amazement at what Keiji had written.

Inamorato

Protector, teacher, saviour, friend,  
When I was lost to life you brought me home.  
You taught me how to live and how to love,  
You saw the boy beneath the cold façade.  
One thing I lost but know you hold it safe,  
My heart is yours; it beats while e’er you breathe,  
And as it does I ever will remain,  
Your Keiji.

Bokuto stepped around the desk and drew Keiji out of his chair with both hands.

“Truly Akaashi?”

“Truly Bokuto san.”

They leaned slowly towards each other and their lips met. There were no bluebirds singing; no fireworks; no heavenly choirs. Just an immense feeling of joy and belonging, they had finally both found their home.


End file.
